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Chapter 10: Fat man -edited by Don
Chapter 10: Fat man Posted: July 13, 2012 - 01:00:00 pm I found the Halls of Hasvik easily enough. Next to the huge doors, which were, as I could see now, made of dark wood with large iron bands holding large timbers together, was a smaller metal door and I knocked there. It did not take long and another man opened the door. He too was dressed like the other one but he was the stark opposite of the Old man I met the day before. He was fat. Midril would have appeared like a weightless Elf compared to this man. His woven suit and overcoat would have been large enough to fit a pregnant Fangsnapper. The front of his tunic was stained with a myriad of greasy spots. He sported not one, but at least three, chins under his thin black beard and he had a tiny round mouth with pouting lips. He eyed me from eyes squished to slits by his cheeks, "Ah what a fortunate appearance, the frames need a good cleaning and we are short of apprentices and pilgrims this season!" Without another word he turned and I simply followed. I stopped in sheer awe as I saw the hall and the seven faceless for the first time. There in a huge hall, with a vaulted ceiling so far up I got dizzy, stood seven stone statues. Huge windows were placed in such a fashion that the light that came through them highlighted each of the statues. All in majestic, lifelike poses. I estimated them to be at least 30 meters tall. There was Odin, his hand resting on the grip of his mighty sword still in its scabbard. His pose was just like grandfather when he had his hand on Mjörden. The Statue of Thor had arms like Uncle Hogun and he held Mylionir the Hammer. To his left, the Goddess Ydun with open hair and a flowing gown and to his right was Freya and she wore her Falcon-feather coat and I was instantly reminded of my mother. Balder and Heimdahl were easily recognizable and so was Loki who alone stood separate from the others and had the slim body of an Elf, as was his heritage. Before Odin burned a bright fire, this one was smoking like a typical oil fire should. There was nothing else in this enormous room. The Fat man yelled and I saw he was already a good distance further into the hall, "You will have many days to gawk at the Gods, but now follow as I need to show you to your chore so I can return to mine!" Only now I noticed a group of young men and boys on their knees scrubbing the floor before Thor with hand brushes, but he did not stop there and went on until we went behind the statue of Odin, where there was a metal scaffold reaching all the way to the top. He said, "Take that bucket with polish and a good supply of rags and climb up there. You will find wide steel beams that are part of the ceiling structure. They are incredibly old and need a good cleaning and oiling so they don't rust." He was about to leave but stopped and said with a snickering tone, "Don't think you can skip a spot, you will be watched!" He whistled as he left. I expected something like this even before I came here and it was just another variation of the main theme of my life and I was so used to it that I simply accepted it and started climbing the ladders of the scaffold. What I could not explain, no matter how I racked my brain, was the strange meeting with the old man. Did I really meet the ghost of a Guardian who was thousands of year's dead? Why then did he know Midril's cooking? The Knife was real and so was the sack I realized I was still wearing. He was friendly enough, unlike the other inhabitants of this Burg. I wondered why the fat man singled me out to do this. Either I truly was the unluckiest person on Nilfeheim or there was someone among the gods who really did not like me. I reached the top of the scaffold and there I found steel beams forming large squares with an X of steel beams all along under that vaulted stone ceiling. In the middle hung huge chandeliers on chains attached to the frames. Small copper pipes led to each of these chandeliers. I counted sixty chandeliers and the same number of steel frames. Each square measured perhaps 30 meters across. The last frame was far in the distance above the big door. The steel beams were about 30 centimetres wide. I was certain, looking at this, that I would be doing nothing else the three months I was supposed to be here. The statues of the Gods beneath me now and the stone floor far below made the entire task quite dangerous. I was not afraid of heights, but this made my stomach cramp with fear. I walked onto the first beam and sat down, since that made me feel safer, and started cleaning. What I thought was black paint turned out to be black sod and it came off only slowly. Sitting on the cold steel beams was anything but comfortable and they were quite as cold as the rest of the place, but seeing my peers far below scrubbing the stone floor on their knees, I did not really feel singled out, that had to be equally uncomfortable, although, of course, much less dangerous. I could not tell how long I scrubbed. I had left my wrist PDD with grandfather as he told me that no modern tech items would be allowed here. But judging from the distance to the scaffold and my aching arms I estimated I had done this now at least for five or six hours. In all that time I was thinking about the Old man and what had happened.A boy, perhaps my age, appeared on top of the scaffold and he looked pale and held fast to the hand railing of the scaffold. He called, "Hey you, Olafson, you are to come and follow me to the Head Guardians chambers!" I got up and walked back. Just as I was about to step back on the scaffold, he tried to kick me! This came so suddenly, and was so unexpected, that I almost fell. I was only alive because he was scared of the height and his attempt was quite clumsy. I lunged forward, grabbed the hand railing, and pulled myself onto the scaffold. He kicked me again and this time his boot found its target, my shoulder. I was on the scaffold now and this kick, as much as it hurt, was no longer unexpected or hard enough to send me back and all the way down. His face showed fear but I somehow felt he was not really scared of me and he did not let go of the hand railing; it was now clear to me he was afraid of the height. I could actually feel my own anger rising very fast and I easily avoided his third kick as he still would not let go of the hand-hold, grabbed his leg with one arm, and hammered my elbow onto his kneecap. "You stinking cowardly bastard. If your clan has some quarrel with the Olafsons then declare your challenge like a real Viking." I yelled at him at the same time. He screamed in pain, my elbow blow was done with force and anger and he did let go of the hand railing and I pulled him close. He flailed at me, one of his fists scarped my left ear and made it feel like fire, but I still held his leg and twisted it with both arms as fast and hard as I could so that he slammed hard and with a loud crash on the grated metal. I was over him, pelting him with both fists in the face. I must have hit him on the right spot because he gurgled, rolled his eyes, and went limp. I leaned back and scrambled to my feet. It took me a few moments to catch my breath, then as I looked down I saw the fat Guardian looking up and when he saw me he turned and waddled away as fast as he could! The guy I knocked out groaned. He was dressed like every Neo Viking, breeches, tunic, boots and fur vest and now I saw he wore some sort of square pads over his knees. This explained why my elbow didn't hurt. The force of my blow still had made him scream. Well he did deserve it! I grabbed him by the tunic as he was about to come around and hissed at him as he opened his eyes, "You want to challenge me? Then do it now!" There were actually tears in his smooth face, "We have no quarrel with the Olafsons. We are the Lindberg Clan!" The Lindbergs were one of the traditional allys of the Olafsons, "Then why in Thor's name did you try to kill me, you coward?" “Because your father offered great rewards to my father if we made sure you did not leave Mount Muspelheim. That keeper down there is my uncle and he told me to make sure you will not come down alive to report to the Headmaster." He still cried, "I failed them! They said they would punish me if I failed!" All my anger was gone; I felt sorry for him and thought to myself that I was perhaps not the only one on Nilfeheim who had it bad back home, "I would help you, but in order for you to be successful, I would have to jump and that is a too steep price for me to prevent your punishment." He nodded, "I understand." "I wonder why father wanted me dead before I was sixteen." I only realized that I had spoken my thoughts out loud when the Lindberg boy answered, "You don't know? If you die here serving the gods you are immediately declared adult and you get a warrior's funeral. Without declaring otherwise, all that is yours becomes your fathers." He wiped his eyes,"I had no plans to come to this place until your Grandfather declared you would come here. I was there when your father explained all this to my father and offered my clan a hefty share of the wealth of the Ragnarsson holdings." "And the fat Keeper is a Lindberg too?" "Yes, he is the third born brother to my father, and since he could not inherit he came here early on and became a Keeper, but he is still Lindberg and like me has to do what the Chief orders us to do." "No wonder I am cleaning steel rafters!" "You were really summoned by the Head Guardian. You'd better go!" "Alright," I agreed. I climbed back down and the whole thing actually was not surprising at all. I was certain father had this idea the moment we left the principal's office and this was why he so openly agreed to send me here, but if my father knew about this Service to the God business, why did Grandfather not know and warn me? I answered this myself as I reached the bottom of the scaffold. Because Grandfather could not have known that one of the Keepers was a Lindberg. I wondered if father had any back-up plan in case this one did not succeed. The floor scrubbing boys were gone, but I saw a man in Keeper's garb, he was supervising three young men, older than me, polishing wrought-iron braziers set up between the god statues, "Sir could you direct me to the Head Guardian's office?" This Keeper was no older than perhaps fifty as he turned to look me up and down and then said, "Who are you? Are you a Low Man servant bringing an offering?" "I am Eric Olafson and I was told to report to the Head Guardian's office." The young men had stopped polishing and they were quite obviously amused. One burst out, "Look at that guy. I never saw anyone more raggedy and dirty than that one!" The Keeper held his finger up and the giggling stopped and they returned to the polishing, "I do not know why you are dressed like a beggar and smeared from head to toe with black sod." "I was cleaning those steel rafters and had no chance to clean up." His eyebrows rose, "The steel rafters? You mean you were up there?" "Yes." "The scaffold has not been moved yet. How did you..." he paused, "Who told you to clean them?" "The Keeper of the Halls." "I am the Keeper of the Halls and I expected you this morning! You never showed up! Yes the headmaster had summoned you, but many hours ago!" He turned to the young men, "You will continue to clean until I return!" Then he put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Come with me!" As we walked to the doors he asked, "Tell me what happened after the Gatekeeper sent you here." I told him about being sent up to the rafters. "Yes the rafters need to be cleaned and serviced but we use the scaffold, it can be moved. Describe this man to me and tell me how you knew the headmaster sent for you?" Again I told him. In the yard, we went past the little stone building, to the structure that would house the High Halls in a normal Burg. The door there was wood and the corridor behind even had wooden floors. The walls were decorated with the round shields warriors of the past often carried and each shield was decorated with a Clan symbol. Many I did not recognize but then I saw the Raven of the Ragnarssons and the Wolvs of the Olafsons as well. "Those are the shields of the 350 first families that came to Nilfeheim," he explained when he saw me looking at them. Underneath the shields were swords and spears. Axes and harpoons. At the end of the long corridor was a double door flanked by stone chairs, upholstered with dark red velvet. He said, "Wait here, and do not sit on those chairs!" He knocked at the wooden door, did not wait for an answer however, and went right in. The corridor was cast in a dark twilight. From tall very narrow windows on the left came the light of day, but it was not enough to light the place efficiently. There were many doors beneath the collection of shields and weapons to the right. A shiny metal plaque set on a wooden frame caught my eye and I went over to read it. January 5th, 2160 Star Ark Stockholm – Crew and Settler manifest. Beneath the golden plate was a long list of names. Next to the plaque was a show-case set into the wall and behind it a headless mannequin wearing a golden woman's dress and a feathered cape! Could that really be Freya's real cape? The one Mother told me about? I wanted to dismiss that but then it seemed I had had dinner with a ghost. I saw my own reflection in the glass and I did look wilder than a Nomad Nubhir Herder of the southern Ice plains. My hair, my face, my arms and much of everything else was covered with streaks of black sod. There was a trickle of crusted blood down my left ear and I wore the rugged Tyranno Oil stained Soak-stone Sack, girded with my the belt I had won. Just then the door opened and the Black-bearded Keeper of the Halls appeared and said, "You can come in now!" The chambers of the Chief Guardian were paneled with a much darker wood and there were several tall book cases with volumes of bound books, the old kind where paper was sandwiched between lids and one had to turn pages to read them. The Chief Guardian stood next to a big dark wooden desk. He had a white beard and a wrinkled face. He appeared old but in no way handicapped or otherwise affected by his apparent high age. He was dressed differently than the other Keeper. He wore a woven garment with wide sleeves with a hem which reached almost to his ankles. The World Tree with the encircling serpent around the roots embroidered with golden thread on his chest, girded by a dark red leather belt and he carried a little golden half moon shaped knife that had a short handle. His hair and beard were not braided, but combed and open. His nose had a sharp looking shape and he looked at me while staring from piercing blue eyes underneath bushy white eyebrows, "Eric Olafson." He greeted me speaking my name as if it explained everything to him, "When your Grandfather told me of you I knew you would somehow manage to stand out, little did I expect all this however." I was not sure how to read his words. His tone was stern and his voice carried authority but somehow I did not detect a distinctive emotion or inflection. The door behind me opened and I heard steps and a labored breath, "Whatever he said, First Guardian, is a lie! He is known to be a liar and I shall gladly take him outside for you." I recognized the high pitched voice as coming from the fat Keeper. "He has not spoken a single word, Keeper of the Cellars. Why have you been in the Halls and know he is here?" "I was bringing scouring sand to the apprentices and students, when I saw him come in. He is well known to me. My Clan and the Clan of Olafson are old allies. Do you want me to take this offender now and punish him or should I simply take him to the outside for you?" "Why are you so eager to take on duties that are not yours?" The Head Keeper then made a sweeping gesture with his hand, "Do not answer! I have heard enough lies from you." Before another word could be spoken the door behind me opened and a new voice said with great alarm in his voice, "The Nephew of the Cellar Keeper has jumped off the Scaffolding in the Halls and is dead!" Hearing this shocked me to the core and I could not stop myself from turning. A Keeper I had not seen before stood there out of breath with distress clearly written on his face. The fat man seemed pleased by that. I felt guilty of not thinking of this possibility and wondered if the Lindholm Clan Chief was even worse than my father and made the boy end his life or whether he fell because he was afraid of heights and made a mistake climbing down. The First Guardian spoke again, "You stay here Eric. I shall attend to this grave matter and then we will talk." He walked by me and said, "I know what has transpired!" To the fat man he said, "You however shall come with me." Everyone left and I was suddenly alone in the Chambers. There seemed no moment I could rest my mind and think and come to some sort of solution. As soon as I somehow started to see some light at the end of the tunnel something else happened. Maybe I should not have been so eager to come here. The evil doings of my own father and his schemes had caused the death of that boy, but I was the reason. I did not know him, but I felt ultimately responsible for his death. Was I worth all this? Would my mother still be alive if she didn't have me? Or maybe instead of me if she had a girl that meant nothing to my father, who could not inherit. Grandfather most certainly would not have made a girl his heir. Who else would have to die before my father reached his goal? Maybe I should simply abandon my desire to kill him and do the very same thing as that poor wretch. Removing me would certainly end my father's quest after the Ragnarsson riches and perhaps if I was dead I would not have to wake up when I dreamt of mother. I still had the knife, a quick cut across my throat would only be painful for a few moments and nothing to compare to the pain he inflicted on me with a single whip lash. "Don't even think about it," said someone and as I turned the Old guardian stood there. I did not hear the door open or close. He was a ghost after all! And he could sense my thoughts! "You are a ghost, Old Man. You can see inside my mind. Tell me, do the dead see other dead? Could I see my mother?" "Seeing you standing there, holding the knife to your throat does not take supernatural powers to deduct what you wanted to do. I don't know if the dead can see other dead, but I am almost certain that those who commit suicide do not go to the same place as those who got murdered. If there is such a thing as an existence after death, that is!" I had not realized I had the knife already pulled. I lowered it. "If you are no ghost why is it no one knows about you, there can't be two First Guardians and then there is the empty house!" "I am not a ghost Eric." There was a loud noise that made me turn. The door flew open and the fat man came in, his face deep red and full of anger, breathing heavily he held a sword pointed at me and yelled, "Before I am thrown out of here I will make sure you are dead. It was a deal before, now it is personal! Do you have any idea what it means to be thrown from here? Why did you not simply die as we had planned, but I shall remedy that now!" He was fat and lumbering but he was armed and a grown man. I had had about enough of being pushed around by others and being pushed into situations I didn't want to be in the first place and I hissed at him, "I frankly don't care what it means, you overgrown fat coward! Sending a boy to do your dirty work. Too fat to get that ass of yours up the scaffold yourself, I bet you don't need to walk those stairs back down, you'll roll just fine!" He howled in anger, "I don't know who you are old man but I will hack you to pieces if you interfere! I am going to kill this unwanted Olafson brat!" I kicked a heavy chair in the way of the approaching sword-wielding Keeper and yelled, "If you're no ghost, Old Man get behind me." The fat Keeper stumbled and hacked the sword into the chair, splintering precious and expensive wood. From behind him I could see through the open door, down the long corridor, and the white bearded Keeper who came running, accompanied by three others. The fat man heard them too, and lunged himself forward screaming and cursing at me, "I'll kill you now!" I was with my back to the big desk ... he would reach me before I could escape either to the right or to the left. The sword was sharp as I saw the result of what his first blow did to the chair, I reacted out of pure reflex and threw the knife I was still holding and it spun and struck true, hitting the fat Keeper, point first into the right side of his chest and plunging past tunic and skin deep all the way to the hilt. He gargled, his momentum still carried him forward but his sword-strike missed me and hit the surface of the desk behind me as he sank to his knees right before me, dropping the sword and clutching the knife sticking out of his chest. He looked at me with an expression of wonderment, pain and hatred. I heard the Old man speak behind me, "You aimed well Eric!" At the same moment, the white bearded Guardian and his companions had reached the Chambers and stormed in. The fat man, still on his knees turned and whined, "I am hurt! This cursed Olafson spawn has stuck me with his knife!" The White bearded Keeper spoke and anger vibrated loudly in his voice, "This is going to be the least of your worries, Son of the Lindberg's. You will leave Hasvik Keep now and I care not if you reach the bottom of Mount Muspelheim alive or dead." Those with him were quite bulky, muscled Keepers and two of them grabbed the fat man, one on each side, and struggled to get him to his feet and then dragged him out without saying a word. The wounded Keeper of the Cellars, however, whined and moaned and begged for mercy, "I am wounded. I will die and bleed to death!" The White Bearded man turned his back and the others dragged him out. Even though he had just tried to kill me, again I felt that another life was about to end because of me! One of the keepers that had arrived with the White Bearded one closed the door behind them as they dragged him out and the First Guardian took a deep breath and rounded the big desk as the others closed the door. As I turned to face him I did not see the Old man anywhere! "You are the cause of more commotion and events in two days then all the other visitors in the last 50 years!" the First Keeper said as he sat down with a sigh. "It was not my intention, I assure you Sir. I did not ask to be here or to be the cause for all this." He actually seemed to smile behind his beard, "The last time we had this much commotion here was when another Erik was here, the one you are named after. Only he did cause most of it himself! I am not faulting you, Eric. I know what has happened and I know of your situation." His hand moved over the deep mar the sword had left on his desk, "You say you have been let in here by an old Keeper right?" I nodded, "I did not believe in ghosts and he denies being one, but he was here just moments ago. The fat man saw him too!" "I know Eric and he has indeed accepted you as a pupil. He will explain it all to you in time. But the dismissal of a Keeper is a very serious matter and he is attending it." "He is no ghost?" was all that came to mind. "Who is he if you are the first Keeper?" "No Eric, he is no ghost, even though he manages to move quite fast for his advanced age and he manages to surprise me even after all this time that I have known him. He has simply retired from the official administrative part, so to speak, but again he insisted that he is going to fill you in. In the meantime we will clean you up a little. Even though there are Neo-Vikings who think that body hygiene is not important and not needed to be a warrior. I assure you there is nothing untraditional about soap and water." "Yes, I would like that, Sir." Category:Edited by Don